Chapter 16 - CAMILA’S VERSION OF LOVE
Camila was arrested without resistance.
That disappointed Rafael.
He had expected something dramatic.
Instead, she requested an attorney.
She refused Gabriel.
That disappointed Gabriel.
Then, after twenty-four hours, she asked to speak with me.
Adrian advised no.
Rafael advised absolutely not.
I agreed with both of them.
Then Camila told prosecutors she would explain Project Horizon only if I attended.
So I went.
Behind glass.
With attorneys.
With investigators.
With no possibility of physical contact.
Camila looked smaller in custody.
Not weaker.
Smaller.
Her power had always depended on people believing she owned the room.
In that interview room, she owned nothing.
She looked at me.
“You finally dressed properly.”
I almost laughed.
I wore a navy suit.
During our relationship, she constantly mocked my cheap office clothes.
“You preferred me poor.”
“I preferred you honest.”
“That is ambitious coming from you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You deceived my son.”
“Your son approached me because your family paid him.”
“That was business.”
“Interesting definition.”
“He loved you.”
“He hit me.”
Camila shrugged.
“Marriage requires correction.”
The detective beside me stiffened.
I remained calm.
“No.”
“Your generation thinks every disagreement is abuse.”
“Your son struck me because I refused to wash your family’s underwear.”
“You disrespected me.”
“You brought dirty laundry into my wedding bedroom.”
“You needed to understand your place.”
“My place?”
“As his wife.”
I leaned forward.
“My place was apparently at the head of the company you spent seventeen years trying to steal.”
That landed.
Her mouth tightened.
“You think Horizonte belongs to you?”
“I own controlling shares.”
“Your father stole the foundation.”
“Your husband stole from Orval.”
“My husband was weak.”
That surprised me.
“Hector?”
“He gambled.”
“He lied.”
“He destroyed everything.”
“But Miguel enjoyed watching us fall.”
“Lucia’s letter says otherwise.”
“Lucia was a coward.”
“She was afraid of you.”
“She was weak.”
There it was again.
Camila divided the world into power and weakness.
Abuser and obedient.
Winner and servant.
The laundry bucket had been her entire worldview in one object.
“Why my father?”
I asked.
Her expression changed.
For the first time, I saw something like grief.
“He promised me we would build everything together.”
“Did he?”
“We were young.”
“That was not my question.”
She looked away.
“You loved him.”
“Yes.”
“Did he love you?”
“He could have.”
“But he loved my mother.”
Her face hardened.
“Your mother played innocent.”
“Did she steal him?”
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
“He chose her.”
Thirty-seven years later, she still could barely say it.
“You built all this because a man did not choose you.”
Her eyes snapped toward me.
“Do not reduce me.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You reduced yourself.”
Camila’s face flushed.
“You sound like him.”
“Good.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Miguel always thought morality made him superior.”
“He protected Lucia.”
“He bought our company.”
“Through bankruptcy court.”
“With money we didn’t have.”
“Because Hector stole it.”
“My husband was a fool.”
“Martin?”
Her expression softened almost imperceptibly.
That told me enough.
“You loved Martin too.”
“I needed Martin.”
“That is not what I said.”
She stared through the glass.
“Martin understood me.”
“Enough to spend decades committing fraud with you.”
“You think this was fraud?”
“What would you call it?”
“Restoration.”
I nearly pitied her.
Almost.
“Restoration of what?”
“What should have belonged to us.”
“Horizonte did not exist when Orval collapsed.”
“It came from Orval.”
“So did Martin’s career.”
“He wanted more.”
“So did you.”
“Everyone wants more.”
“No.”
I thought of my father.
“My father wanted enough.”
“He already had everything.”
“He had my mother.”
Camila looked away.
That was the wound.
Not money.
Not Orval.
Not Horizonte.
My mother.
The business revenge had become a vessel for personal humiliation.
“You watched me grow up.”
I said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you had her face.”
My skin crawled.
“And his company.”
“You were everything that should not have existed.”
The detective beside me wrote something down.
I asked the question that had haunted me.
“Did you have anything to do with my father’s illness?”
Camila’s eyes met mine.
“No.”
I watched her carefully.
She continued.
“I wanted Miguel defeated.”
“Not dead.”
“Death cheated me.”
I believed that.
Not because she deserved trust.
Because the answer fit her obsession.
She wanted my father alive enough to witness loss.
Cancer deprived her of that fantasy.
“So you chose me instead.”
“You inherited everything.”
“Including your hatred.”
“Yes.”
“And Mauricio?”
Her expression became dismissive.
“My son had one job.”
“To marry me.”
“To make you trust him.”
“He did.”
“For a while.”
“And then?”
“He became soft.”
“You mean he loved me.”
“I mean he forgot why he was there.”
“You punished him for it.”
“I corrected him.”
That word again.
Correction.
The same word she used about violence.
About marriage.
About her son.
Camila never harmed people in her own mind.
She corrected them.
“What happened after I left the wedding?”
“You ruined the timeline.”
“I am devastated.”
“You were supposed to go home with Mauricio.”
“To whose home?”
“Ours?”
She smiled.
“To mine.”
My pulse slowed.
The plan had been for us to spend our wedding night at the hotel, then three days at the Valdez family estate before our honeymoon.
Mauricio suggested it months earlier.
I thought it was tradition.
“The seventy-two hours.”
“Yes.”
“What would have happened?”
“You would have signed documents.”
“No.”
She smiled again.
“Everyone signs eventually.”
My skin turned cold.
“How?”
“Pressure.”
“What kind?”
“You were not supposed to be harmed seriously.”
Seriously.
The detective looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Camila ignored him.
“We would have taken your phone.”
“Your laptop.”
“You would have been told Horizonte faced an emergency.”
“Martin would confirm it.”
“Mauricio would tell you signing temporary proxy authority was necessary.”
“And if I refused?”
“You would reconsider.”
“How?”
She looked at my bruised wrist.
I had my answer.
The laundry bucket was merely the opening act.
They expected humiliation.
Isolation.
Threats.
Possibly violence.
Until I signed.
“And after?”
“You would go on your honeymoon.”
“With Mauricio.”
“Yes.”
“Pretend everything was normal?”
“Marriages survive worse.”
Not mine.
“Why are you telling me this?”
I asked.
She smiled.
“Because Martin is gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was arrested.”
“No.”
“He escaped.”
Every person in the room went still.
The detective immediately touched his radio.
Camila’s smile widened.
“You people believed you arrested Martin.”
My stomach tightened.
Police had arrested a man at my old apartment.
Identity confirmed by documents.
Fingerprints pending.
No one had doubted.
“Who did they arrest?”
I asked.
Camila leaned back.
“Martin’s brother.”
Sofia had never mentioned another brother.
Neither had Lucia’s records.
“He has a brother?”
“Half-brother.”
“Similar enough if you haven’t seen Martin up close in years.”
I had seen Martin on video recently.
Not in person.
His hair had changed.
Weight.
Age.
Could it be?
Camila enjoyed our uncertainty.
“Where is Martin?”
The detective demanded.
Camila ignored him.
She looked only at me.
“Exactly where he always wanted to be.”
My phone vibrated outside the room.
An officer handed it to Adrian.
He read the message.
His face went white.
“What?”
I asked.
He turned the screen toward me.
Horizonte headquarters had just gone into lockdown.
May you like
Sofia Chen was missing.
And someone had used her credentials to access the chairwoman’s private archive.
